


Helping the Healer Help Himself

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders (Dragon Age) Positive, Angst and Feels, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, Mental Instability, Protective Varric Tethras, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Varric Tethras needs a new set of eyes in Darktown, because the fact that Anders has gotten this bad is... problematic at best.And Hawke is going to be worried sick.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Kudos: 20





	Helping the Healer Help Himself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuffypelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuffypelly/gifts).



Yeah. Varric needed to find a new set of eyes in Darktown for sure. Ever since Nibs took off to marry that alchemist, he’d gone through several less-than-stellar replacements. He really thought he’d been on the right track with good old Coaly, but looking at the clinic, he realized this wasn’t going to work out either.

“Ye said tah let ya know if somebody was sniffin’ around.” Coaly grumbled. “Ain’t nobody been sniffin’ around here except the rats.”

Yeah, and apparently Varric had one of them on payroll. He didn’t even try to smooth the irritation out of his features. Instead, he lifted one gloved hand and indicated the open clinic doors. “I said quite clearly to let me know if anything looked odd. Does this look odd to you, Coaly?” 

The clinic looked like a tornado had gone through it. Cots overturned. Herbs, bandages, empty flasks, and dirty sheets strewn everywhere. Anders was nowhere to be seen, but at least there wasn’t any blood. Whatever happened here wasn’t fatal, not that it excused Coaly’s incompetence.

“Humans are odd.” Coaly shrugged broad shoulders. “Mages are odder still, ain’t they?” 

Oh he missed Nibs. He wondered if she was bored with her alchemist yet. Maybe he could lure her back with a substantial raise. Varric jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re making Bianca twitchy. Beat it before she gets impatient.” 

The threat of his fair lady was enough to make Coaly blanche and turn tail into the warrens of Darktown. Varric didn’t bother to watch him go. He slipped into the clinic, stepping lightly over the debris littering it as he made his way to the backroom. “Blondie? You alright in here?” 

Varric didn’t have to wait long for the frazzled response. “I don’t have time for Wicked Grace!”

Well, at least he wasn’t dead. Or glowing blue and raving about templars. He’d take the small victories where he could get them today. Still, he could feel the migraine starting already. He stopped into the closet which contained the cot Anders slept in, when he wasn’t at the Hawke estate, which seemed to be more and more often.

Hawke hadn’t complained. But she didn’t need to. Varric saw the worry lining her face. He could read between the lines she didn’t say, the empty chair next to her at Wicked Grace more and more often. 

Anders bent near double over a desk, sleeves covered in ink, papers strewn in all directions littered with his tiny, cramped handwriting. Varric didn’t need to look to say what they contained. The manifesto needed rewritten, apparently. 

“When’s the last time you ate? Or slept?” Varric asked pointedly, taking in the dark circles under the mage’s eyes. He looked like he was on his last damn leg, one penstroke from falling under the weight of his lofty goals. 

Anders huffed impatiently. “Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

That looked like it was up for debate, but Varric didn’t have time to argue. He heard a small, barely audible gasp from the front of the clinic and withdrew quickly. 

The Champion of Kirkwall stood in the middle of the debris, looking a bit lost. Her eyes had gone dark with worry, skipping over the scene and tucking a lock of flaming hair behind her ear. She looked away from the mess as he approached, her mouth falling open on one name. “Anders?” 

“Found his muse. Again.” Varric inclined his head to the backroom. “See if you can talk some sense into him, muscles.” 

Hawke barely listened to the rest of his sentence, taking off to the back room like a woman on a mission. He watched her go with a strange heartsickness, a bitterness on the tip of his tongue. 

Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered out the clinic doors to rope some of the residents into helping him clean this mess up for a couple silvers.

**Author's Note:**

> FINE DWARVEN CHEST HAIR DIRECT FROM KIRKWALL AT [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](http://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com)


End file.
